


Twenty Flowers, and the Memories of Them

by Jess_B_Fossil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boys In Love, Drabbles, Drama, Flowers, Futurefic, M/M, Oneshot, Romance, Sappy, Slice of Life, boysindenial, couldbeconsideredcanon, itsprettyfuckingsappy, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_B_Fossil/pseuds/Jess_B_Fossil
Summary: Flowers can mean a lot of things. Questions, intentions, but most importantly-- Memories. Otayuri, oneshot.





	Twenty Flowers, and the Memories of Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theangryuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryuniverse/gifts).



> 4/20/2020 Edit: I've been dying to finally update some of my older YoI fics, despite dipping my toes into another fandom for the last half year. I wasn't really happy with how this one turned out, so I re-wrote it entirely. It's very similar, but there are a few subtle differences. I didn't edit this tho. Oops.

Otabek is a sap when it comes to things, but Yuri loves it. 

He’s tired and aching, and his students are fucking stupid. He closes his eyes, but still sees lop-sided turns and barely nailed toe loops. And teenagers— the fucking teenagers. They’re outright exhausting, and not in the bone-wearing after a good day of work way. It’s more like a I’m too old for school yard drama way. 

Yuri walks into their small apartment to find a bundle of flowers in a jar though, and he smiles. He doesn’t need a note; Beka’s explained more than enough times about his stupid obsession with flowers and the questions that they can ask. 

Yuri touches a leaf softly, before leaning over to smell them. 

“Yura,” Otabek says from behind him. Yuri turns to find him half-clothed in a towel, rippling muscles on display from the waist up and dripping wet. Yuri’s smile turns into a smirk, holding his hand out because he’s already yearning to touch, and he’s barely in the door. Otabek pulls him close, kissing him with comfortable ease.

“What are these for?” Yuri asks, sighing into his mouth.

“No reason,” Otabek says, one hand gripping the back of his neck. The other thumbs at Yuri’s hip, sliding against the small peek of skin underneath the hem of his shirt. “Just memories.”

Yuri smiles fondly, before pulling him back to him. Memories indeed. 

#

_Rose_

“Hey, Beka.”

Otabek hums lightly in response, but doesn’t look away from his bike. He’s sprawled out on the ground before it, leveling It with a critical eye. Yuri watches him from the work bench, eyes roaming his form as Otabek takes a socket wrench, muscles bulging slightly with effort as he works at the screw.

Yuri hates people, but Otabek is different, he’s something else entirely. Yuri can’t take his eyes off of him, swallowing thickly, and the room is suddenly suffocating and—

He blames the hot garage air. 

“What’s your crush like?” Yuri finally asks, lips curling around the question in a near snarl. It’s a stupid thing to ask, he doesn’t want to fucking know this. 

Otabek drops the tool in surprise, hissing. Yuri blinks and Otabek recovers instantly. He twirls the heavy wrench between his fingers deftly, but doesn’t meet Yuri’s eye. 

“They’re a little hot-headed,” Otabek finally says, moving to pull at another part of the bike. Yuri is about forty-percent sure that it’s the engine, but what the fuck does he actually know about motorcycles? He only knows that he likes to watch Otabek work on them. “More bark than bite though, I’ve learned over the years. And beautiful.”

“And let me guess,” Yuri says, not at all liking the dopey look of affection that crosses Otabek’s face. Yuri is admittedly, a jealous bastard. “They don’t know it right?” 

That’s how romance always works, right? The woman thinks she’s a plain-jane while everyone around her scrambles for her attention. 

Otabek snorts though, the closest thing to a genuine laugh that Yuri’s ever gotten from the man. “No,” he says. “Trust me, they are incredibly aware of how gorgeous they are.”

Yuri think for a long moment, and then says, “Sounds like someone I’d get along with.”

By the time Otabek looks up from his work, Yuri’s already lost in the idea. He misses the look of fondness thrown his way. 

#

_Cherry Blossom_

It’s not the first rom-com that Otabek and Yuri have ever watched, and it won’t be the last. Otabek likes romance and Yuri does too, as much as he denies it vehemently. 

The night is like any other. Otabek leans against one arm of the couch. Yuri lays across the entire thing, facing the other direction, long legs stretched across Otabek’s lap. He holds Yuri’s ankles in a loose grip unconsciously, thumbing circles over the delicate bone there. 

Yuri eats popcorn noisily, fingers pressing the kernels to pink-bitten lips and—

Otabek watches him. He’s always watching Yuri, more than the movies they watch, eyes flickering over 

Yuri never notices. 

“This is so stupid,” Yuri says around a mouthful of food, gesturing wildly at the television screen. “Who the fuck believes in love at first sight?”

Otabek does. He thinks of silky blond hair, the color of cornsilk, soft under his fingertips. He thinks of emerald green eyes like a soldier’s. Otabek is a living example, not that Yuri will ever know. He grunts his customary grunt, squeezing the soft skin of Yuri’s calf gently. 

“Yeah, who does?”

#

_Daisy_

Yuri tries not to think of his younger days, because those days fucking suck. He remembers Otabek though, and those memories aren’t so awful. 

A stocky boy, stumbling around the barre like a blundering fool, unable to hold basic forms and little-to-no flexibility to speak of. Yuri favors this one because it’s funny— the determination set on Otabek’s face belying his stocky form, ill suited for dancing. 

As an adult, he’s grown more fond of these younger memories, as awkward as they were. It’s when Otabek first noticed him. 

The whole eyes of a solider thing is kind of endearing.

#

_Daffodil_

Yuri doesn’t like to dress up because it’s extra work. 

Otabek relishes the rare moments when he does though; Yuri is the vainest man that he knows and when he puts in the effort, he dresses to the fucking nines. 

“Beka, will you help me with this tie?” Yuri asks, storming out of the hotel bathroom in a whirlwind of pine soap and Otabek’s sandalwood aftershave. 

Otabek turns, freezing to the spot, looking, just looking, taking in the sight of Yuri in a deep burgundy button down. It slims him perfectly, the cuffs hitting his wrist at the perfect spot. Yuri’s lips pull into a tight frown as he fumbles with a white bow tie. 

“Fucking ties,” Yuri murmurs. “Beka—” Yuri looks up, only to catch him staring. “Why are you staring?”

Otabek snaps his mouth shut and steps closer, trying his damnedest to remain composed. It’s hard, it feels impossible, as he pulls Yuri’s hands from the tie. His fingers shake a little bit as he ties it off, before patting at the silk softly against Yuri’s neck. 

“This is a good color on you,” Otabek says, fingers moving to ghost along the soft cotton of the shirt and down Yuri’s sharp shoulder. “Caught me off guard.”

When Otabek looks away, Yuri fingers the shirt nervously, but smiles softly, cheeks burning pink as the Western sunset.

#

_Peony_

“Telling the truth is fucking boring,” Yuri groans, laying along the couch, tossing a hacky sack up and down.

Otabek is sprawled across the floor, trying to hook up a new game system, fingers curled around nameless plugs as he scratches at his head. Even as a DJ extraordinaire, he was clueless when it came to most other electronics. He stares at the pile of wires and controllers with a severe frown. 

“Don’t be silly, Yura,” Otabek finally replies, moving to untangle a pile. “It’s basic manners.”

“You know better than anyone that I don’t have any fucking manners.” Yuri pauses. “Except with you. I’m nice to you.” Another pause. “If it’s your story, fucking embellish it. Honor and glory, and all that shit. Don’t you want to seem impressive to others?” 

Yuri isn’t impressive on his own. He’s angry, wild and incredibly flawed. He has to adorn himself with at least one desirable quality, otherwise he’s doomed to live out his life in a lonely existence. 

“Do you lie to me?” Otabek asks quietly from where he sits. 

Yuri turns to look at him, eyes washing over his strong back. He knows that Otabek is only teasing him, but Yuri’s heart jerks slightly. There are things that Yuri feels, that Otabek doesn’t know, that he’ll never know. Still, there’s a moment of silence that hangs between them, causing Otabek to look over his shoulder. 

“No,” Yuri finally says, tossing his toy in the air over and over again. “But I’ve made a habit of lying to myself, I guess.”

#

_Iris_

“I asked you what your favorite song from the nineties is.” 

“And I answered.”

“I’m In Love With My Car, by Queen, isn’t the fucking nineties, Beka.”

Otabek smiles, wide and annoying and Yuri hates it, because it’s a rare thing to see and it makes his heart fucking pound. 

“The nineties was a terrible era of music, Yura. I prefer to ignore,” he says, voice low and practically swoon worthy. 

Yuri can’t form a proper response, so he rolls his eyes instead. 

#

_Sunflower_

“Why the moon?”

They’re laying outside on a blanket, watching the stars twinkle in the dark night sky. Otabek considers Yuri’s question for a long moment, trying to figure out how to possibly explain the depth of what he feels, when he’s with him. 

“You know how the moon pulls at the tides?”

“Yeah, gravity and shit.” And shit. How utterly Yuri. Otabek smiles. 

“Well, this person pulls at me and no matter what happens, I always find myself going back to them.”

Yuri hums, turning his gaze from the stars, to Otabek at his side. “I’m literally the only person that you spend time with, Beka. I feel bad for whoever’s heart your breaking.” 

Otabek hums and they both turn to look at the moon once more. Yuri doesn’t quite get his silence.

#

_Narcissus_

“Yakov wants me to cut my hair,” Yuri sighs, pouting. 

Otabek isn’t surprised. Yakov is a traditional man at the end of things, and he still doesn’t like how much time they spend together on principle, let alone Yuri’s rebellious style choices. Yuri hasn’t cut his hair in years, and it falls to is mid back in a soft curtain. 

Otabek reaches out, coiling a few strands around his fingertips. “Will you?”

“Fuck that shit,” Yuri says. “It’s my favorite part of me.”

“Same,” Otabek says, letting go to brush his bangs back again. 

Yuri’s annoyed expression softens immediately at the touch.

#

_Freesia_

It’s been a long day of competition and they’ve avoided the after party. Yuri hisses as he pulls his foot out of an ice bath and Otabek pulls it gently into his lap. Wordlessly, he massages the feeling back into the bruised and battered skin, applying ointment to any scrapes and cuts. 

“Hey, Beka,” Yuri says, practically moaning at the touch, and Otabek hums in response as he often does. “You’ll always be my best friend, right? Like this’ll never end?”

Otabek’s fingers ghost and moisturize Yuri’s cracked skin. “Of course it won’t. I’m forever yours, Yura.” 

The words slip out before Otabek can stop them, but Yuri looks please, regarding him with soft affection.

#

Violet

“Kissing is overrated,” Yuri says one day, sitting at Baldy and Katsudon’s kitchen table, eating takeout. 

Otabek blinks at him, eyebrows raised. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Yuri scoffs, sipping at his soda straw. “Of course I have. Never fucking impressed by it.”

Before Otabek can respond, Victor butts his unwanted nose into the conversation. “Probably because you’re kissing the wrong person,” he says, leaning over Yuri’s shoulder and stealing a french fry.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Yuri snaps, pushing Victor away. 

But Victor only laughs as he pulls back, winking at Otabek. 

#

_Alstroemeria_

“Let’s go back to Barcelona,” Otabek says one night. The television casts an eerie glow across the dark hotel room. Yuri grunts softly, snuggling into his side, muttering about how sore he is from skating that day. 

Friends don’t do this, Otabek thinks, rubbing his head along Yuri’s back. They’re best friends though; best friends that love each other, because Otabek is too smart to think that whatever this is, isn’t reciprocated. 

It’s there in the way that Yuri tucks into him, hackles down and face relaxed, the Ice Tiger of Russia tamed, if only for a moment. 

“You heard me,” Otabek says, nudging him gently. “We deserve a vacation.”

“Why Barcelona?” Yuri murmurs quietly. 

“Because Barcelona always brings us good things.”

Yuri hums at that. “Barcelona it is, then,” he replies softly. “Set a course.”

Otabek looks down, only to realize that Yuri is talking in his sleep.

#

_Cymbidium_

Yuri’s looking at him weird, grinding Otabek’s gears. 

“Yura, is there something wrong?” he finally asks. 

Yuri cocks his head to the side, tongue sticking out as a cute little wrinkle settles across his brow. “I’m trying to figure it out,” he says after a moment of observation. 

“Figure out what?”

“Why girls don’t date you.” Yuri’s eyes narrow, gaze sliding over him. “I mean, you’re good looking and shit—” And Allah above, Otabek tries not to preen at that— “Rocking muscles, sexy haircut. You’re literally made of the stuff that women look for.”

Oh. Oh. 

It’s not that Otabek never expected to have this conversation, it’s just that Yuri brought it up so casually. 

“Women ask me out plenty,” Otabek admits, rubbing at his neck nervously. “I just— Yura, they aren’t my type.”

Yuri blinks, and then there’s realization, and then— “Beka, are you gay?” There’s a pause, and then, “I mean, it’s definitely not a problem and all that, and I mean guys are kind of gross, but I can get behind it and—”

Yuri’s rambling now and Otabek releases a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Hey Beka, that dude that you like? Go fucking tell him, or something. I’m tired of carrying your lonely ass.”

Otabek mutters something about it not being that easy.

#

_Rhododendron_

Yuri hates the question, and he hates that Otabek asks it. 

Yura, are you afraid of anything?

How does Yuri explain that his biggest fear is Otabek himself; not in the traditional sense of course, he’s not actually scared of him, or anything. Rather, it’s just the idea of Otabek in general. Losing him, telling him that he likes him, how he might respond and—

“Hey, you know that you’re like the only person that I remotely tolerate, right?” Yuri finally says.

“Hm?” Otabek looks at him from over the bike he’s perched next to, screwdriver in a grease slicked hand, pausing his work. “Yura, is this about what I asked you the other day? Don’t worry about that; it was only a question.”

“Most people would say that they’re afraid of being alone, right?” Yuri says, ignoring Otabek entirely. “I’m afraid of losing you. The idea of it sucks entirely, because you’re the only person that means shit to me.”

Yuri risks a quick glance at Otabek, afraid that his words would come off as weird and unhinged but— 

His heart beats wildly instead, because of the soft look that’s taken over Otabek’s face.

#

_Tulip_

“Lucky number fifteen,” Yuri says with a smile.

“Fifteen? That’s a weird number.”

“It’s how old I was when I met you,” Yuri says with a wink, and Otabek’s heart flutters, it fucking yearns, and it’s getting harder and harder to clamp these feelings down. 

“Yura, you were ten when we met.”

Yuri waves his hand dismissively. “Fucking semantics.”

#

_Gerbera_

Otabek knows the moment Aidana tells him that she’s retiring from making his costumes, he’s fucked. There’s so few that he trusts, because his build isn’t the typical long-legged and willowy stature that most male figure skaters seem to have. 

Yuri tells him that he knows a person, perfect for Otabek’s traditional style. 

Otabek had known he should have ignored him, but, well he’s Yura, and—

“Beka, let me see,” Yuri says, throwing the fitting room drape aside without a care. He stops. He looks at Otabek, gaze dragging across the entire length of his body, and he hates this already, he hates this. “That’s… uh… different,” Yuri finally manages.

“The first version was lavender, so I requested him to make it a little bit brighter. This isn’t what I had in mind.”

Yuri’s face twitches slightly and Otabek sighs, because he knows what’s coming next. Yuri bursts out laughing, unable to contain it any longer, nearly falling over in the process. Otabek slaps his hand across his face, pulling at his eyes tiredly, before glancing into the mirror again. He winces at the neon pink and yellow ensemble.

Yeah, next time he just shoves Yuri’s head into a toilet bowl instead. 

#

_Snapdragon_

“I’m a fucking unicorn, Beka. And you know it.” Yuri preens in the mirror of their shared hotel room, make sure that his stage make-up is just right for the competition 

Otabek only smiles from behind him, chin covered in soap lather as he tries to shave. Yuri’s right.

#

_Hydrandea_

It’s probably Yuri’s last Olympics. 

It’s not something that Otabek really wants to think about, but he can’t help it; it’s been slowly creeping into the forefront of his mind after simmering on the back burner the entire season. It’d been okay when he’d retired— he’d expected early retirement if anything— But Yuri? 

Yuri seems like he’ll compete until he’s fifty, even if they both know that’s not really possible. 

It’s 2026 and Yuri is twenty-eight. He’ll be lucky to eke out another few years in his competitive career, let alone another Olympics. Yuri doesn’t mention it either, but he knows, there’s no way that he doesn’t. 

Otabek is sure, because he’s his coach; Yuri’d demanded it the moment he’d hung up his skates.

Yuri skates flawlessly, as always, but Otabek knows he’s in pain. He sees the slight stiffness coiling in Yuri’s muscles, little twitches of discomfort. Otabek knows because he watches though, he’s always watching, Yuri, eyes trained on his slim and willowy form as it glides across the ice. 

Or makes food. 

When he lounges on the couch. 

Anytime, really. He watches as his coach, as his friend and as a man who yearns and wishes. 

They sit in the Kiss-and-Cry, waiting for the final scores, nerves ablaze with anticipation. Yuri sits in second, but he’s delivered the performance of his life and Otabek knows, he knows. 

The announcement blares through rink and the score is heard, and it’s like the stadium has fallen silent, like there’s no one there but Otabek and Yuri. Yuri whoops, jumping out of his seat, pulling Otabek with him. Yuri’s taller now, hands holding Otabek’s face tightly as he looks down at him, eyes twinkling with visceral emotion. 

Otabek is proud, this is the proudest moment of his life. Yuri is screeching, having smashed a world record to bring home the gold. 

Yuri must be proud too, because he thumbs at Otabek’s lip before pulling his face up and bending over to kiss him. They’ve danced around this for years, for them, but Yuri is finally making his fucking choice. 

Fuck the Gold, Otabek thinks. This is his proudest moment he thinks, slipping his arms around Yuri’s neck, pulling him closer. The other man flips off the cameras, his other hand slipping into Otabek’s hair. 

#

_Ginger_

“I fucking hate Katsudon.”

It’s a random thing for him to say, and Otabek regards him with amusement. “Color me surprised,” he intones sarcastically. “You seem to have no problem with it anytime we visit Japan.” He points to the bowl sitting before him. 

Yuri’s mouth tugs downward and he snaps, “I wasn’t talking about the fucking food.”

#

_Carnation_

“Hey Beka,” Yuri starts. He always starts things like that, with a simple Hey Beka. His heart warms at the gentle tone, so different than his usual demeanor. It’s reserved for only him. “What do you think about true love?”

He’s asked about this before when they were younger. Dumber and stupider, unwilling to commit, too afraid to say anything to the other, too afraid to indulge in this. 

“What, do I think that it exists?” Otabek asks and Yuri shrugs. He reaches out and takes Yuri’s hand, fingers slipping together. “Obviously.”

Yuri isn’t the kind of guy to make mad declarations of love— aside from their news worthy smooth at the Olympics, so he says, “Yeah, obviously.”

Otabek smiles at him, thumb gliding over Yuri’s knuckles, squeezing his hand. 

Yuri Squeezes back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Have questions? A burning need for answers? Have a story idea? Just want to talk Otayuri? Don't forget to check out my [Tumblr](https://missmarquin.tumblr.com/), and drop an ask! 
> 
> Also, follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/HornyBaldFossil)


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